


How to Fall Down and Other Stories

by Tat_Tat



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 17:38:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2516213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tat_Tat/pseuds/Tat_Tat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Mabel/Pacifica one-shots because I write too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Losing was not included in Pacifica's schedule for today. She'd jotted it down in her planner: a day spent kicking ass with Mabel in a doubles mini golf tournament. 

She couldn't count the number of times she lost on her hands- because it hardly ever happened. She was a Northwest, dammit, and a Northwest never lost. And if they did, well, there was money. 

But being with Mabel convinced her to not use money to sway things in their favor for this tournament. "I just want to have fun, Pazzy," she had said.

At the time, that had been enough to convince her, and now she was seething with rage, glaring daggers at the two guys holding the trophy that should have been theirs. She tore off her single white sports glove and twisted it between her hands before throwing it to the lacquered floor dismissively. 

Of course, there was more to her anger than just losing. Again her parents hadn't come and she couldn't help but feel jealous hearing Mabel's great-uncle and her brother cheering for her in the stands. Sure, there would be the brightly-lit sign waiting for her at her mansion, congratulating her expected victory (adding salt to the wound), but Pacifica didn't want her parents to hear about her wins and losses. She wanted them there to see them- to be with her. She wanted to hear their voices cheering for her along with Mabel's family. 

She didn't think that was too much to ask. 

"Hey you." Mabel walked into her line of sight, interrupting her glare towards the first place winners. 

"This sucks," Pacifica said.

"What are you talking about? We had fun, right? Riight?" She playfully elbowed her.

"We lost. We're losers."

Mabel rolled her eyes. "Psssh. Yeah.Guess what losers get to do after a game?"

"What?"

"Go out for snow cones!" She beamed, making jazz hands. "C'mon, before Grunkle Stan leaves without us." She took her hand, waving her golf club in the air triumphantly. "Best losers coming through!"

Pacifica smirked, waving her golf club also. She felt flushed and silly, feeling everyone's eyes on them. But she wasn't moping anymore, merely embarrassed. She squeezed Mabel's hand, thanking her silently.

"Mabel?"

"Yes?" her girlfriend trilled, accidentally hitting a passerby with her club.

"What's a snow cone?"


	2. It Wasn't Broken

Pacifica never had the same phone for more than two months.She always bought the latest and greatest model. It was the same for her clothes: she never wore the same outfit twice, and yes, that did include socks. People were not immune to being replaced, either. Her mini-golf instructor Sergei had been the replaced the day after they abandoned him at the course.

Her parents had taught her anything could be replaced and that included herself. Pacifica thought that was fair and made sure she excelled at everything, securing her spot as a Northwest.

So when her parents told her to break up with Mabel, she knew it wasn’t personal.

They told her she could get a new relationship. A more acceptable one. The replacement didn’t need to be a guy, they said. Just as long as he or she was rich— but not too rich, because a Northwest is never second.

A month after the end of summer, a month after the breakup, and she missed her old phone. She’d bought a new one today, and it felt naked without the scratch and sniff stickers caked on top of it. Her mom had asked her with faked interest if she liked her new phone.

"I don’t like it."

Her parents told her she could get a new one. Anything could be replaced.

Pacifica didn’t think that was true: not anymore.


	3. Fragments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically One to Three Sentence fics

I.  
Pacifica hated when Mabel smiled. Enough to shoot her smile down with a snide comment and her nose in the air.

But, she started to wonder, if she hated it so much then why did it hurt to see her cry?

II.  
Mabel wasn’t like her friends or anyone else blindly following her. She could think for herself and that both scared and intrigued Pacifica.


	4. Drink to Forget

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is from a WIP I was going to write. Sort of a continuation to "It wasn't broken" where Pacifica grows up, gets married and lives how her parents wanted her to. She still misses Mabel and regrets breaking up with her. She turns to drinking to poorly cope with her loveless marriage and various other problems in her life. I'm not sure if I'll ever actually write it since it's very heavy and I don't want it to be a story where Mabel magically cures Pacifica. I do like this snippet I wrote though so that's why it's here.

“It’s like. . .so beautiful.” Pacifica said. Swept up in the current of blues and purples on canvas. She wasn’t sure what the painting meant or what it was exactly. It made her think of whirlpools and tempests. The dark sea. 

“What is it?” She asked, turning to Mabel.

“It’s you, Paz.” Her voice was soft at first, and then, “don’t you recognize yourself?”

Not catching her mirth, Pacifica’s eyes drifted to the glass of champagne in her hand. “I don’t know who I am anymore, Mabel.” She fingered the rim of the glass, “I knew I was a Northwest but I don’t want to be that anymore.”


	5. Empty Hallways

The air was quiet and heavy, cloying on Pacifica’s skin. She felt cold in her cashmere black dress. It was the second time she had worn it, and that was okay because they weren’t alive to reprimand her for it. 

She stood next to their open caskets, trying not to look directly at their pallid and heavily made-up faces, and failing. 

The only thing that helped break her gaze from them was the line of relatives, family friends, and business partners, waiting to give their condolences to her. She solemnly shook hands and stiffened at hugs, oddly quiet.

She wasn’t sure if she was sad or not. And if she wasn’t, wasn’t that messed up? If she looked anything less than sad, she hoped it wasn’t obvious.

The days between the funeral and the car accident didn’t feel any different from when her parents were alive. The manor was cold and empty as ever, her only companions the paid servants and material items. The only thing she noticed was that she could wear the same clothes more than once, that she didn’t need to pretend to like people for the sake of business (though she still did out of habit), and she didn’t need to hide that she was seeing Mabel Pines. 

Her visits to the Mystery Shack were nothing new, but they became more frequent. When she finished talking to the funeral directors, lawyers, and business partners, she drove straight there, and climbed into Mabel’s arms. The scent of tapioca and the warmth of her eased the stress. 

The stress was mostly because of the planning, but not all of it. Pacifica had never worried that she lacked compassion until her parents passed. She felt empty. But she had always felt empty. How could she miss them if they had never been there?

She would stare at the ceiling at night, Mabel wrapped around her, going through a list of people in her life and thinking: what if they died?

Sergei? Nope. She still didn’t feel bad for ditching him at the mini-golf course.

Her limo driver. . .? What was his name? His face? Well, that answered that question.

Mabel? She scratched that thought out immediately, shivering. She didn’t want to imagine that and she took some comfort in that it had made her body distant, as if taking Mabel away from this world was like taking color and laughter along with it.

And then she would frown, thinking: why couldn’t she feel that way about her parents? She wanted to, but couldn’t bring herself to. Maybe it wasn’t all about reaffirming that she wasn’t a terrible human being and it was all because she wanted to know that her parents loved her enough that she could miss them.

Among the long line of awkward congenial handshakes there was a light at the end of the tunnel in the form of a woman who even made the color black look cheerful. She smiled softly with genuine concern, pulling Pacifica into a hug that felt more like a chokehold. 

For a moment, Pacifica didn’t care if anyone was watching or if she appeared happy when she should look sad. For a moment Pacifica didn’t care about appearances, wetting the front of Mabel’s sweater with tears, the culmination of stress crashing around her. She was clinging to the one thing that made sense, the one thing that wasn’t a plastered smile and rehearsed condolences. 

Mabel didn’t say anything, and that was enough.


	6. Jealousy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be a part of something bigger. . .

Pacifica wasn’t aware that everything she knew was a lie until she met Mabel Pines. It was more than the supernatural activity that gravitated towards the small town of Gravity Falls. Her legacy was a lie, and even deeper than that, her relationships were shallow, barren of any real love.

She long suspected that her parents might not actually value her as much as a dollar bill but she never actively questioned it until the Pines family stood in comparison to her own.

The comparison was laughable to her at first. The members of the Pines family were all badly dressed and the men smelled like they took a shower a week (maybe not even that). Mabel did smell nice, really nice if she was being honest with herself. She smelled like vanilla and brown sugar, and whipped meringues. 

They were also poor and Pacifica assumed by that association: sad. Her parents told her the poor wore frowns instead of designer jeans. 

But the Pines family didn’t seem sad. Sure, Dipper and Stan didn’t smile as brightly as Mabel but they seemed content. Sure of their familial bonds. There was a sense of trust and absolute respect underlying all the teasing that confused and enraged Pacifica. 

So when Mabel waved to her, all fun times and confetti, Pacifica couldn’t help but seethe with a jealousy she couldn’t recognize.


	7. Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An AU where Mabel is a mermaid. Not in relation to the Monsterfalls AU.

The caw of seagulls and the sun shining obtrusively through her window roused Pacifica from sleep. She groaned, rolling away from the window and drawing the covers over her face. After a few minutes like that, her body slowly waking to a pounding headache, she started to register that the ground below her was bobbing slightly. The salt scent from the sea was more fragrant than usual too. She sat up suddenly, wiping the sleep from her eyes. 

“Ugh.” She held her head. Gradually, painfully, everything started to piece together. She was on her yacht after a long night of partying. She had drunk too much, and maybe more. Her head was swimming and she needed a painkiller to numb her hangover, but in a moment like this, the bathroom was too far away. She was lazy and tired, and hated the sun. 

Suddenly, she felt someone stir under the covers beside her. Nothing new on that end either. She shrugged, dragging herself out of bed, resisting the urge to crawl instead of walk. She had to keep up appearances now that she knew she wasn’t alone in the room. 

She swallowed two ibuprofen from her medicine cabinet. Upon closing the cabinet door, which doubled as a mirror, she was met with her very tired face. Pacifica washed her face and applied some makeup to mask the dark circles and blemishes. Then she brushed her hair and teeth. Midway through brushing her teeth, mouth full of bubbles, she heard her guest move under the covers and sigh. Pacifica glanced at her bed reflected in the mirror, then dropped her toothbrush. 

She rubbed her eyes, then pinched herself, but the woman did not disappear and Pacifica didn’t wake up from a dream. This was real. There really was a mermaid in her bed. 

The mermaid didn’t register Pacifica’s shock. Her jaw dropping? Why that could only mean she was excited to see her! 

“Good morning!” she shrilled, too cheerily. Pacifica wasn’t sure if she couldn’t stand the bright eyes and bushy-tailed demeanor because of her hangover or because the merwoman was obnoxiously cheerful. 

“Morning,” Pacifica curtly replied, pretending she hadn't been surprised. Should she take a picture and send it to a tinfoil hat magazine? No. No one would believe her and her reputation would be ruined. 

“Thanks for letting me crash your party, Paz.”

“You are?” Pacifica didn’t like that the other woman was too friendly, familiar towards her. It scared her. 

“Oh! I guess we were way waaaaay fucked up. I’m Mabel!” She brushed the strands of brown hair from her face. Pacifica stared. Her wavy hair was as long as her tail and various objects were tangled in her it: pop tabs and bottle caps, silverware, and a ring of keys along with ribbons of kelp. Around her neck was a garland of various plastic six pack rings strung together. From the makeshift necklace hung more aluminum pop tabs and costume jewelry. In stories, mermaids were made out to be elegant and otherworldly. Perhaps otherworldly was the right word, as despite her bizarre sense of fashion, Mabel was beautiful with her large dark eyes and ghostly pale skin. But she was far from elegant. Without the long serpentine pink tail, Pacifica would be inclined to call her a hobo. 

If Mabel were human, Pacifica would kick her out without hesitation and take a long shower. She was still disgusted, but more than that, she was intrigued. 

Mabel clumsily fell out of the bed, crawling towards Pacifica. “I am so hungry! Do you have anything to eat? Like nachos or candy. . . candy! Please say you have candy! I haven’t had any since forever!”

Pacifica found herself backing away. She smoothed down the front of her pajamas and took a step forward, exuding control and confidence even though she felt neither. “I don’t have candy. You can eat breakfast, but then you have to leave.”

Mabel frowned. “Why?”

“Because--” Pacifica stopped, feeling Mabel’s puppy-eyed gaze fall on her. Her heart stopped suddenly, and then released, quickening in her chest. She sighed. “Okay. You can stay a little. Just don’t let anyone see you and mind the furniture. Everything in here is worth more than your little charm necklace.”

Mabel flopped excitedly, pumping her fist. “Tell me you at least have cereal and I’ll be a happy mergirl.”

They went upstairs to the kitchen, passing by Pacifica’s passed-out party guests. Occasionally Pacifica would stop to wait for Mabel, who had to crawl up the stairs, her tail flopping around uselessly. 

They ate breakfast on the floor, which Pacifica normally wouldn’t be caught dead doing, but it had felt awkward eating at the table while Mabel ate at her feet like a dog. 

In between mouthfuls of cereal, Mabel rattled on about her life under the sea and gushed over how great life must be on land. Pacifica couldn’t help but smile, muffling giggles behind her hand. Her head was clearing and Mabel’s cheerfulness was contagious. Though she had insisted before that Mabel had to leave after breakfast, Pacifica didn’t want her to leave. Mabel was so different from anyone she knew. She was bold and genuine, and wasn’t interested in Pacifica’s status. She didn’t even know what money was. 

A dozen questions filled Pacifica’s mind. While Mabel went on at length about life-sized hamster balls and useless misinformation about the world on the surface, Pacifica stared at Mabel. Mabel’s gills, barely visible underneath the plastic six ring charm necklace. Mabel’s long fingers, nails thin and sharp like porcupine barbs, her hands soft and webbed. Mabel’s lap, and her tail that seemed to stretch for miles. 

A dozen questions filled Pacifica’s head but she ended up blurting only one, “So, how did we do it?”

Mabel stopped mid-sentence. A wry smile pulling back her lips, revealing sharp white teeth. Her tail wrapped around Pacifica’s shoulders, pulling her closer. “You don’t remember? Why don’t I show you again?”

This time Pacifica helped her down the stairs.


	8. I can hear the bells

Pacifica hates windchimes, their crisp twinkling in the breeze. The sharp, hollow tone of a bell. The jingle of silver and gold bangles as they clash together. She hates these things that remind her of the void her parents created in her. Of all the bad things she's done in the past, though she can't remember all of them, or whether those things were inherently bad or simply something her parents disapproved of. 

The sound of bells, windchimes, and jewelry make her freeze up, her wrists cold, as if metal shackles are secured tightly in place around her wrists. She is losing circulation. Losing herself.

She doesn't want to live the rest of her life like this. It's been months since her parents have tried to control her with the bell. She can resist the pull of years of training, set up before she could walk, but the implications of the sound still leaves goosebumps and makes her heart weak and heavy. 

Because the sound means she's bad, that she did badly. That she's a failure. 

She finally decides to change, because living on pins and needles is hell. She's afraid when she hands Mabel the bell, afraid of what it could mean. But she trusts Mabel with all her heart. 

"Can you like. . . ring this when I've done something good?" Her voice is low. She feels foolish for asking.

Mabel stares at the bell in her hands and Pacifica turns bright red, reaching back for it. "Never mind. This is stupid."

Mabel pulls it out of reach. "It's not stupid. Nothing you do is stupid, Pacifica." To prove her point she rings the bell. "See. I just rang it because you did something right for yourself."

Mabel frowns, watching Pacifica cower under her. She drops the bell and pulls her into her arms, rubbing her back, reassuring the blonde that she is enough and that she did nothing wrong. 

It becomes easier to cope with time and persistence. She is right to trust Mabel. The bell only comes out for positive reinforcement. At first, for grandiose achievements like winning trophies for mini golf and karaoke, or parallel parking, and then, for superfluous reasons.

"Uh. Mabel. . . why did you ring it?"

Mabel blew a raspberry. "Because you're extra gorgeous today! Duh!"

Pacifica had blushed at that, turning away. She couldn't find a retort to that, her chest warm, heart fluttering.

Easier doesn't mean that she's okay though. Sometimes, she regresses, mind blank and fumbling. Sometimes she can tolerate it. Sometimes she's apathetic and she's not sure if she will ever be normal. If a bell will just be a sound to her, like it's meant to, and not a flurry of repressed emotions and neglect. 

But she wants to at least try. 

X

The bells in the chapel ring as they run out of the church, hand in hand, wearing wedding white. Pacifica's gown is tailor-made, cut from the finest cloth. Mabel's is handmade, the glue-gun sticking to the back of her skirt bustle. 

Confetti and bubbles follow after them, and as the bells reverberate through the town, Pacifica's run slows into a stop. She stares up at the church bells, and Mabel, concerned, squeezes her hand. 

"I'm sorry, Paz. I forgot about the church bells--"

Pacifica turns to Mabel, smiling, tears in her eyes. "I've never been so happy to hear that sound."


End file.
